


love, with all and everything

by violentdarlings



Series: clockwork triad [2]
Category: Infernal Devices Series - Cassandra Clare, Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Clockwork Trio, F/M, Herongraystairs, Insecurity, M/M, Multi, Parabatai, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - F/M/M, Victorian, and probably incorrect usage of Victorian slang, canonish, codependent, or as I think they should be called:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 20:19:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6092890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violentdarlings/pseuds/violentdarlings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jem, and the two people he loves best in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love, with all and everything

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually disclaim, because no one's ever daft enough to think I actually own anything other than too many books and far too much rope to be decent. But in this instance I will: so, not mine. I just took them out for a quick spin.
> 
> This makes absolutely no attempt whatsoever to be canon compliant, but I like to think of it as a missing scene of sorts, if it was canon that on the sly that Will, Tessa, and Jem were doing it like they do on the Discovery Channel.
> 
> Oh, and banged out in the last three hours, so beware of typos. Title taken from City of Heavenly Fire.

It never fails to hark him back to the first time they did this, watching them together. Tessa, her eyes resolute even as her hands tremble, and his _parabatai_ , methodically stripping her of clothes with a patience he usually only applies to the hunt and to books. Jem sits up a little on the bed and watches Tessa kiss Will, watches her fist her hands in his shirtfront even as he makes a vain attempt at the many little buttons going down her back. Jem grins when Will throws his hands up in frustration, dislodging Tessa’s grip on him.

“I believe you require some assistance there,” Jem says, just to earn Will’s cross glance in his direction, and beckons with a thin hand. Tessa’s smile is all wickedness, enough to make Jem’s trousers feel just a shade too tight, as she sits on the bed and Jem with no little effort manages to sit upright behind her. He coughs, just a moment too long, and Tessa turns her head to eye him with sudden sternness.

“If you’re not up to this, James,” she says, and Jem nearly falls over himself trying to convince her otherwise. He risks a glance at Will, who is standing regarding them, arms crossed. Jem knows there is very little help to be had from that quarter. Tessa is the master of them both and if she deems him unfit, Will would never go against her.

Jem squirms under the heavy weight of Tessa’s inspection, knowing what she must see. His pallor and his thinness, skin drawn over bones with only stark muscle to cushion them. Part of Jem – a larger part than he ever lets on – is disgusted by himself, cannot believe that this weak and pale thing houses his consciousness. That Tessa and Will, the two most exquisite and marvellous people he’s ever known, can summon up within themselves some trace of desire for his ruined body and emaciated form.

Yet they do. And Tessa has finished her examination of him; she has turned back away from him, so he can better begin on the buttons of her dress. Jem’s musician’s hands are better suited to this kind of thing than Will’s, after all. Inch by inch, Tessa’s skin is revealed, before it gives way to her chemise and her corset. Jem focuses on his task, even as Will comes to sit beside Tessa on the bed, kissing her again in that exasperating way he has. Not that Jem would know from personal experience, of course. Some things the three of them cling to like life buoys in this new world they have found themselves in. Jem and Will may both take Tessa to bed, often simultaneously, but they do not kiss, they do not touch. And if in the dark hours of the night, alone in his bed, Jem’s memories of Tessa’s hands on him transform into weapon-calloused fingers, hard palms, and a body sinewed and strong with muscle – well. It is not something Jem ever considers under the harsh light of day.

Jem unfastens the last of the buttons, and leans forward enough to brush his lips over the tender spot where Tessa’s shoulder meets her neck. Tessa sighs and tilts her head, encouraging his lips to climb higher up the smooth line of her throat. Will has stopped kissing her to remove his shirt, leaving him in just his dark trousers. Jem purposefully does not look.

There are several ways they have done this by now, but more often than not Will takes Tessa while Jem watches. Jem is still inhibited enough not to stuff his hand down his trousers and bring himself off while watching Will bed Tessa. In the beginning, he was not sure if it was all right, and later, now, when he knows neither Will nor Tessa would mind overmuch, he cannot bring himself to reveal himself in that shameful private act that he should be man enough to resist. Never mind that he has seen Tessa’s slim hand wrap around Will’s prick, seen his _parabatai’s_ head fall back with the pleasure of her touch. Jem holds himself to a different standard. Not higher, just different.

Nor, for that matter, has he ever buried himself in Tessa’s quim for any longer than a few moments. The first time he and Tessa and Will had fell into bed together, they’d tried. Jem had been only a handful of inches into that exquisite heat before a tickle in his throat had led to a cough, and then another, and then a frantic gasping for air. It had ended with blood on his hands and tears in Tessa’s eyes and that dreadful blankness in Will’s that always appeared when confronted with evidence of his _parabatai’s_ fragile mortality, and that had rather summarily ended that. Jem had feared that this newfound intimacy would never occur again, that this further evidence of his infirmity would put Tessa and Will off of the idea permanently. But they had not been deterred; it had happened again, and it had continued, and although Tessa has made a few rather unsubtle hints, Jem had never been game to once more attempt to make love to her in the traditional way.

So mostly Jem watched Will enthusiastically bed Tessa, his _parabatai_ seeming to have an endless list of positions to try. And when Will and Tessa had returned to their own rooms, or he had returned from one of theirs, Jem would lie back on his bed, his trousers shucked down to below his knees. He’d close his eyes, see again the tangle of loveliness that was Will and Tessa entwined, take himself in hand, and then –

“Jem,” Tessa says, dragging him back to the present, “are you quite well, my dear?” Jem blinks, and manages to dredge up a smile from somewhere deep inside him.

“Forgive me,” he replies. “I was lost in thought.”

“That much is obvious, James,” Will says, now down to merely his underthings, his chest bare except for the tracings of Marks both old and new. Jem’s skin is much the same; in unguarded moments Tessa likes to touch them, tracing Angel-given patterns on their skin. Will nudges Jem’s knee with his own and Jem silently moves to the side, giving Will more room on the bed, too aware of the heat and solidness of Will by his side.

“Surely we can find some way to keep you anchored in the present,” Tessa says, now down to just her chemise – and he must have been very distracted, not to notice Will and the trouble he inevitably would have had with her corset laces. “Move back a little.” Jem complies, shifting until his back is against the wall. And Tessa is on his lap, in his arms, her lips on his so sweet he cannot imagine any other way he would want to leave this world. Certainly not clawing for breath, enslaved to a drug he loathes –

No. He will not think of it. That does not belong here, with Tessa, wrapped around him like a limpet, and with Will, sitting beside him on the bed, their legs brushing. Will’s blue eyes are avid as he watches Jem and Tessa kiss, lazily, for what feels like hours, each touch sliding into the next, like waves on the shore. At some point Tessa draws Jem’s shirt over his head and Jem forgets to curl in on himself, to try and hide xylophone ribs and hipbones sharp enough to take someone’s eye out. And then the next thing he knows Tessa has unlaced his trousers to take him in hand, and Jem’s eyes roll back in his head and it is the first hand belonging to someone other than himself that has ever touched him there.

“God,” Jem hears himself moan, has never heard his voice strung out and stretched like that, as though only the weakest of fibres is tying him to his control. There is a deep, masculine chuckle to the right of him, but there is no cruelty in it, only fond good humour. “Tessa, God, please –”

“With pleasure,” Tessa says, and helps him out of his trousers. It is only when she drops his underclothes to the floor that he is recalled to himself. This cannot happen.

“Tess,” he says, but she must take it as an invitation, because she resettles herself across his lap, and the wetness of her over his prick is almost more than he can stand. But he can’t. Can’t be shamed like that again, when his body let him down so dismally.

“No, Tessa,” he says, his voice agonised, the slickness of her just touching him where he is hard as stone and aching like hell, “you can’t. Please, don’t.” Surprised, Tessa lifts herself away from him, and Jem could weep from the sudden lack of her heat, from the slight weight of her on his lap.

“Why not?” she asks. “What’s the matter? Jem, tell me.” He shakes his head, his eyes screwed shut so tight he can see stars dancing against the black. “James.” Her voice is worried now.

“I can’t,” Jem says, the words torn out of him, his voice sounding even to himself like gravel over stone. “I can’t, Tessa. It’ll just end the same as last time, and I can’t – I won’t – I don’t want you to see me like that again.”

There is silence, and eventually Jem has to crack open an eye, just to see what is happening. Tessa is still perched on his lap, but there is a horrible sorrow on her lovely face. As for Will, Jem dare not turn his head to examine his _parabatai_. To see pity, or worse, on Will's face would be enough to undo him.

“So you won’t try,” Tessa says, sadness in her voice. “It went badly last time, so you’re afraid to try again.”

“Yes.” Jem is relieved beyond words. Finally she understands. “Tessa, go with Will. He can please you. I can’t. I’m not strong enough.” Finally, the excruciating truth of it, out in the open, the dripping poison eating away at his soul. He’s not man enough to give Tessa what she needs. He’s too thin, too doubting, too weak.

“Jem’s right,” Will says unexpectedly, as if he had overheard all of the things Jem had been saying about himself in the privacy of his own mind. Jem almost pulls a muscle turning his head to look at his _parabatai_ , his heart aching. Now they will see him for what he really is. And they will go, and –

“You’re not strong enough,” Will says, slinging an arm around Jem’s shoulders, pushing him a little further down the bed. Jem doesn’t understand – is Will trying to push him off the bed entirely, to send him away? But Will is not. Rather, he is sliding in behind Jem, pulling him back until Jem’s back is flush with Will’s chest. The whole manoeuvre takes only a matter of moments. “You’re not strong enough on your own,” Will says, and for the first time Jem feels the sensation of Will’s voice vibrating right through his bones. “So you can have my strength.”

Jem’s arousal had melted away, but it flares back into life when he turns back to Tessa. She has shucked her chemise and is as bare as the day she was born; Jem has seen her nude before, under or on top of Will, but this is different now, this is for him. She smiles, and turns his face up to hers for another kiss, brushing her slick quim against where his cock is beginning to stand up again.

“I’ll be right here with you,” Will says, his much stronger body bracketing Jem’s. Jem shudders, and just like that he is ready, with Will holding him and Tessa above him, and Jem feels like he can conquer the world, if only he could always have these two at his side.

Tessa drops her hips, and Jem chokes back a curse that would be entirely unbefitting to say in front of a lady. Yet Tessa must have guessed something of it from his expression, because she bites out a similar phrase, one in Welsh that Will must have taught her. Tessa is moving and Jem is shifting in Will’s hold, bucking his hips up helplessly. He can’t think, can’t make sense of the world, it’s too much and not enough, and he sets his hands tentatively on Tessa’s hips as she rides him, the movement of her hips steady and almost too much to bear.

“That’s so good, Jem,” she gasps, and Jem thinks he might die right here. As if Will can hear him, his _parabatai_ shifts until his mouth is almost at Jem’s ear.

“I’ve got you,” Will says, his chest hard against Jem’s back, and the Law be damned, Jem drops one of his hands to grab onto Will’s, to hold onto him tighter than tight. Jem’s lungs are burning and his head is spinning and he is sandwiched between Tessa and Will and they are the only real things left in the world. Jem gasps for breath, and Will must feel the drag of air into his chest, because his hand tightens on Will’s. “Easy there, brother,” Will says, and Jem nearly dies of the sheer perversity of it, of Will referencing their sacred vow in this of all settings. But more than it shocks Jem it arouses him, brings his attention back abruptly to Tessa, although in fact his attention had never truly left her. He lifts his hips up, driving himself into her, and leans forward to mouth at her breasts even as her hands tighten on his shoulders.

“Jem,” she says, and that seems to have broken the dam, “oh Jem, Jem, please.” The sound of her, the need of it, his name in that voice – it’s too much, far too much, and suddenly Tessa is tightening around him, her voice gone high and wordless and dear God, he’s made her come, he’s made Tessa come –

Jem shivers, his heart is going like mad and the taste of blood and sugar is heavy in his mouth for all he’s neither taken the drug nor coughed up blood for hours. Will’s arms are like bands of steel around him, Tessa is crushed in his arms, his hips moving without any conscious input from his brain, and Tessa is still making those noises and suddenly Will’s voice is in his ear, his lips brushing Jem’s ear. “Enough, now, James,” he says quietly, and maybe that’s all Jem needed to let go, Will’s permission, because his vision flares white and the world burns up around him.

There are fingers stroking through his sweaty hair, and a hand holding his, and yet another hand tracing lazily over his _parabatai_ rune. Too many hands, he thinks absently, to belong to just Tessa, unless she’s Changed into something he’d rather not think about being in bed with. But when he opens his eyes, it is only Tessa in her own skin, and one of Will’s hands teasing at the rune that binds them.

There is something hard and insistent prodding Jem in the back. A smile comes to Jem’s face unbidden. “Dear me, who brought a seraph blade into the bed with them?” he asks mock-seriously, and from somewhere behind and slightly above him he hears Will growl out the same Welsh curse that Tessa had. Tessa herself is smiling slightly, moving away from Jem for a moment. She is always quiet afterwards.

“It’s an involuntary reaction,” Will snaps. “Besides, if it was an actual seraph blade, you’d be run through, you idiot.”

“A quick death,” Jem muses, turning around to face his parabatai. He means to continue teasing Will, but a look at him stops Jem dead in his tracks. Will’s eyes are wild in his carefully controlled face, his underclothes tented out in what Jem can only assume is a deeply uncomfortable fashion. Something like sympathy and also like yearning lights up in Jem, and he moves exceedingly slowly, giving Will time to pull away if he wants to. He takes the hem of Will’s undergarments and pulls, Will lifting himself up to assist until Jem can drop the clothing onto the floor. Acutely aware they are both entirely nude, Jem moves a little closer to his _parabatai_ , touching his shoulder, his chest, and down. Will inhales sharply when Jem’s hand finds its mark, closing around smooth hard flesh, so like his own and yet different. Will is close, Jem can tell, from the heartbeat thundering in his hand and the sweat gathered on Will’s brow and the fever in his eyes.

“Brother,” Jem says without meaning to. But he can’t bring himself to regret it because the word fits right, _feels_ right, Will is not his brother by flesh but by blood, the other half of his soul. He speeds up his hand, watches Will’s head tip back, the white of his teeth worrying at his lip as he fights to keep from making a sound, and Jem wants. He leans forward, kisses his _parabatai_ like he’s drowning, and Will makes a shocked sound in the back of his throat, kisses Jem back just as forcefully, and spills hot and wet over Jem’s hand.

He’s worried Tessa might be offended or disgusted, but any such thought vanishes when he looks over at her, wiping his hand absently on either his or Will’s discarded underthings. Tess is breathing heavily, her skin flushed with arousal all the way down to her breasts, and without a word she pounces on Jem, kissing him breathless, while Will recovers and smirks at them. Jem might be young but he’s also as sick as hell, and as much as he’d love to bury himself in her to the hilt again, to lick her until she screams, he doesn’t have the energy.

But. He does have hands, and with something resembling awe he puts his fingers to Tessa’s skin, to stroke and frig her until she comes again, whimpering his name, his hand soaked with the evidence of her desire. He pulls her towards him, curls her against his side and Will is a solid presence against the other, and lifts his hand in curiosity to taste his fingers. Will sees what he is doing and grins, a quick bright blade of a grin, before it fades completely.

“We’re going to hell,” Will says, his voice devoid for once of his usual sarcasm. Jem nods against his shoulder, Tessa draped over him and her breathing beginning to slow in sleep. She can’t sleep here, of course. It’s not worth the danger, for the three of them to be found asleep in the same bed. Not worth the damage it would do to Tessa’s reputation, nor for the many horror stories both Will and Jem have heard over the years about _parabatai_ who fall prey to the darted arrows of Eros.

“I couldn't put it better myself,” Jem agrees lightly. “Although, I expect to be there rather sooner than the pair of you.” He narrowly dodges the elbow Will aims at his side.

“You never know,” Tessa says. “Tomorrow a carriage might crash and kill us all. A demon could catch us off guard and do to us what Shadowhunters have so often done to them. None of us can know which day will be our last.”

“If this is to be it, then, I’m glad to be with the both of you,” Jem says softly, and silently Tessa puts her hand in this. Jem squeezes it back, as tightly as he can. All he can see of her, when he looks down, is the top of her head, but it is enough.

“And if we are to burn in eternal fire, there are none others I would prefer the company of,” Will replies. Jem has no answer to that, none that do not knot up his throat and blur his eyes.

“We should get dressed,” Jem murmurs, when he feels he can speak again without his voice cracking. Against his side, Tessa mumbles something incoherent.

“Just a little while longer,” Will translates, although Jem does not need it. Jem thinks he'll need to avail himself of the _yin fen_ sooner rather than later, if the beginning throb in his joints is anything to go by. Yet he is a creature of vice, after all, and there is another addiction Jem is slave to, something with a deeper hold on him even than the demon drug.

“A little while longer,” he agrees.


End file.
